


Biting my initials into your neck

by quietwandering



Category: Morrissey (Musician)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Mild S&M, moz finds a boy that looks johnny that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering
Summary: You are my possession, you don't realise yet
Relationships: Morrissey/Original Male Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Biting my initials into your neck

**Author's Note:**

> This took me absolutely forever, my gosh. I don't know why I was taken with this idea. I have so much more editing to do so apologies if anything drastically changes, but I just wanted to go ahead and share this as it is now. 
> 
> Title is [Action is My Middle Name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGHloBYuv-8) by Morrissey

“Whiskey and sour for you.” 

“Cheers,” I said, without moving my eyes up from the bar. Another drink, another ploy for my attention - I just wanted to be left alone but clearly that was too much to ask for at a mostly empty pub at half past one in the morning. This was the third drink sent over tonight. “Who’sit? Who's sendin' them?” 

The bartender motioned towards the back, and I spun around on my stool to take a proper look. I nearly had a heart attack when I realised the man responsible was actually standing _directly_ behind me, far too close for comfort, and my resolve to tell him to piss off quickly wavered. “L-look, mate. Thanks but no. I’m not interested, and I’ma about to head out anyways,” I said, staring resolutely at my lap.

“I didn’t ask if you were."

Puzzled by that response, I glanced up and felt my chest tighten all over again. He was older but still incredibly handsome. His hair was a soft grey, cut close, which highlighted his brilliantly blue eyes. He cut a striking figure in a suit clearly worth more money than I’d ever see in my entire life. Nervous, I grabbed the whiskey off the bar and tried to keep myself from outright gawking at him like an idiot. “Fair point, I suppose.” 

“I just wanted to know your name.” 

“What do you want it to be?” I asked, thumbing the side of the glass. The effect his presence had on me was remarkable. I was suddenly feeling bold, flirtatious even...though that could've just as easily been from all the whiskey in me. His lips hinted at a smile before he brushed his fingers along the inside of my wrist, tracing the tattoo there. “For the right price, I could pretend to be just about anyone.”

“Mm, tempting, but I don't intend to pay. I suppose I’ll just have to settle for the real you.” 

His voice was divine. A little deep but tinged with a slight lisp, a slight poshness. “S’ppose you can just call me Jack then. It’s what I usually go by - though my real name’s Johnny.” 

The man was silent for a long time. I wondered if I’d said something wrong, but I was too nervous to ask. “Intriguing. Steven Morrissey. Would you care to come home with me?” 

My mind reasoned that I shouldn’t go off with some stranger in the middle of the night - that was just the kind of thing my mother warned me about - but I nodded and hopped off my stool, noticing the large amount of bills left on the bar. Maybe a hundred quid or so. I felt a little faint at the sight. Who _was_ this man? A banker? A corporate manager? 

“Come with me,” Steven said, and I found myself hand in hand with him. We walked out to a dark colored Mercedes, which made me a little apprehensive, but then a chauffeur got out the driver’s side to politely let us into the back seat. The interior was all light gray pleather offset with a dark wood grain. There was also a small dividing window that presumably kept the driver from overhearing anything. 

“Wow,” I whispered, feeling a bit under dressed in my ragged leather jacket and ripped jeans. People driven around in cars like this probably were meant to be a bit more posh. “Uh, where we off, too?"

“You’ll find out, won’t you?” 

I shrugged and tried to hide how nervous I felt by reaching for my fags. Thankfully I'd not put them in my back pocket again and crushed them all. The tinted window next to me opened a crack as I lit one, and I wasn’t sure if I should thank the man next to me or the driver. Neither of them seemed to have moved, honestly, so maybe the car just _knew_ to do that - rich people bought all sorts of crazy stuff, didn’t they?

The car ride was mostly silent aside from some classical music on the radio. I wondered if it was by one of those famous composers I’d learned about in grammar school. If I’d not been listening to ska punk bands in the back of the class at full volume on my iPod, I could've chimed in with some witty insight and looked at least a little cultured. As it was, I could only really recite a lot of the lyrics from _Let's Face It_ and somehow I didn’t think Steven would be interested in hearing them. 

We came to a stop in front of a terraced house after about half an hour. We were somewhere in Bowden by the looks of it, and I was let out by the driver after Steven. He took my hand again, and we walked through a small, fenced in garden full of cheery yellow and blue flowers before we reached the front door. The place was immaculate, and I wondered if he owned it or if it was just on lease. I imagined a guy like this probably lived in a big mansion in London or something and was just here in Manchester on holiday...for some weird reason. 

“Try not to smoke inside if you can help it,” Steven said, and his voice almost made me jump. He’d not spoken in so long I’d forgotten the appealing sound of it, and I nodded before I reached down to unlace my boots. “Leave them in the closet by the door along with your jacket.”

“Sure,” I replied noncommittally. His house, his rules after all. Plus, I really needed to learn how to clean up after myself. I was nearing 30, but my basement flat was rank from all the laundry and forgotten boxes of take out. I’d only tidy up whenever a cute bird was coming over for a visit, and even then I’d just hide all the garbage in the closet. 

When I was done, I walked into the living room and marveled at the decor. There was a large portrait of James Dean and some other actors I didn’t recognize. I noticed there were no family portraits or anything clearly sentimental aside from a few loose paperbacks scattered on the coffee table. Well, that, and an assortment of old VHS tapes that looked like they could turn to dust at any moment. I didn’t know any of the titles and seemingly none of them were made in the last forty years.

“Have a seat,” Steven said as he walked in from the kitchen with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. I wasn’t a huge fan of wine, but I wasn’t about to say no - my nerves were shot, and I wanted something to calm me down. “Tell me about yourself, Jack. Are you from Manchester?” 

“Uh, well. Yeah. I tried London for a little while, but…” I paused to try and think of a polite way to say I spent all my money on booze and a Fender Mustang bass - which I didn’t have anymore because I smashed it after I had accidentally smoked a joint laced with PCP. Long story, that. “Just didn’t work out, did it?” 

Steven sipped at his wine, and those blue eyes absolutely mesmerized me. I was pretty relaxed usually, laid back, but somehow he made me feel an urgency I didn’t understand. It felt like my heart was beating too fast, like I couldn’t catch my breath. I shakily downed my glass and hurriedly poured myself another one. “What do you do for a living? Do you work?” 

I shook my black fringe out of my eyes - I needed a haircut so fuckin' bad. I was starting to look like Joey Ramone - and thought about that question for a little while. How could I make myself not sound like a total loser? “Sometimes. I go down to the job center a few times a week and do temp stuff. M’not on the dole or anything like that, mind ye. Just kinda not sure what I wanna do with myself.” 

One of Steven’s hands reached out to mine, and I watched as he traced his thumb over my callused fingertips. It felt strangely sensual - more intimate than I would’ve expected. “You play guitar?”

“Oh, uh, bass, actually. Well, I would if I...I had one. My first one I had to trade in for a bit of cash, and my last one broke, but I’m saving up for another one soon.” That wasn’t exactly true, I spent all my money on fags and nights out at the pub, but...close enough. “What, uh - what do you do then?” 

Steven shrugged and pulled my hand into his lap, tracing each of my fingers with his thumb. “I sing. Sometimes people even listen. It comes and goes, I find,” he said, nonchalantly. My insides churned with curiosity, dying to know more. He was in a band? What kind of band? Clearly a successful one, damn. “Sometimes I write, mostly I read.” 

“That’s cool. You must be one of hell a singer to stay in a place like this, huh?” I laughed and pushed my hair back behind my ear, trying not to sound _too_ interested. That’d be awkward for him imaginably. “Can’t say I recognize you, but I really only know a lot of grungy American bands from the 90s.” 

“Mm,” Steven said with a wry smile, as if I’d said something humorous. He must be in a _really_ successful band then...wow. I hope I didn’t offend him. “I can’t say I know much in the way of those.” 

“Yeah, I sort of grew up with it. I thought America looked so cool. Way cooler than, like, the Britpop stuff and that prat Robbie Williams, I guess. I’d see the imports box at the record shop, and there were way better bands in there all the time.”

Steven sat his wine glass on a nearby table and scooted closer to me, reaching to brush a finger across my jaw. “You remind me of someone I know,” he said, and I wondered what that meant. “Or knew, perhaps. Time’s changed the both of us now.” 

“Huh,” I whispered, nerves back with a vengeance. My hands shook too much for me to keep ahold of my glass so I sat mine down, as well. “Think I’d know him?”

The question went unanswered as Steven brought his lips to mine. I wasn’t sure how to respond, what to do - I’d not kissed too many guys before and usually that was only when I was properly sloshed. I’d never been brave enough to go after a bloke while I was sober, not even when I saw a nice looking one checking me out at the pub.

Steven pushed me back into the couch, moaning, and I opened to the insistent press of his tongue. He was an _incredible_ kisser. Far better than anyone I’d been with in the past. I loved how assertive he was with me, showing me what he wanted and how he wanted it, and I clung on to the lapels of his jacket, thrusting my tongue against his own, feeling restless and hungry for this beautiful man. 

Suddenly, he jerked away from me with a bewildered expression, as if I’d burned him, and I just sat there, flushed and panting, wondering what I’d done wrong. “You’ve a…” He gestured towards my mouth when I didn’t say anything after a minute, as if I was supposed to have been able to understand something so vague. “You’ve a tongue ring?” 

“Yeah,” I said, confused as to why that’d be a problem. “S’that okay?” 

“Take it out. Go put it in your jacket pocket.” 

I blinked, totally at a loss, but I got myself up with his help. I was a little wobbly from all the alcohol and the now noticeable erection that tented my jeans, but I got back to the closet after a few minutes and struggled for ages to unscrew the ball beneath my small tongue stud. I wondered if I could find a mirror somewhere, convinced I'd never get it out otherwise, but my shaky fingers were finally able to get the job done. 

I got back to see Steven had shrugged out of his coat and cleaned up the wine. “Come upstairs with me,” is all he said before he walked past me, out of the room and down the hall, and I just nodded and followed along right behind him. I should’ve said good night. I should’ve said ‘ _This was a great time and all, but I need to head home before it’s too late to catch a cab,'_ yet I couldn’t find it in me to say no to this, to _him_. I was completely enthralled by this man, but I had no idea as to why. 

The bedroom was the last door in an incredibly long hallway, and we walked in near silence next to each other all the way there. I was taken aback when we walked through the door - it looked like it belonged to someone else entirely. There was no pristine furnishings here like in the living room, just dozens of bookshelves all crammed in close to one another - it was like a library but in a tenth of the space, and I near tripped over a loose pile of books as I wandered about, taking it all in. “You really do read a lot, huh?” 

Steven shrugged and unbuttoned his shirt as he wandered into a small door off to one side. It was a bathroom from what I could see. I didn’t feel comfortable just...stripping down to my skivvies in some stranger's house so I went to look through some of his collection. There were books of all kinds, all types, all sizes. One thing that caught my eye was a huge assortment of vinyls stowed away towards the bottom of one of the shelves, and I curiously flipped through them. They were all incredibly old, but I recognized a few here and there: The Velvet Underground, Roxy Music, New York Dolls. 

“You can put one on if you’d like,” Steven’s voice called from behind me, and I decided that something a little ambient might be nice. After a few minutes, I picked out one of the Bowie albums, _Station to Station,_ and gently set it on the nearby record player, smiling as I dropped the needle on the edge. It’d been so long since I’d played music on anything other than my laptop. The bass sounded so much richer like this, so crisp.

When I turned around, I held back a laugh to see he’d changed into a loose pair of sleeping trousers. Who’d bring someone home for a quick shag and get _changed_? Everything about this man was so strange, but, then, I was probably equally as weird to him, wasn’t I? I was just some punk kid thirty years younger than him in a faded Goldfinger shirt. I looked more like I was here to rob the joint. “Uh, m’not sure how you wanna do this if you got those on. Typically you’re meant to take clothes _off_ doing this kinda thing.” 

“On the bed,” Steven said, gesturing towards it, and the sudden lower register of his voice made my cock throb. It was still straining out from between my legs, I realized, and I made my way over with slow, unsteady steps, still not quite believing I was going to go through with this. I was so scared I could hardly look at him. I stared down at my feet and the lush, tawny carpet below, waiting for it to tell me this was a bad idea.

“Can’t say I’ve done this much,” I joked as I crawled up onto the enormous bed. This thing could have its own fuckin' postal code, goddamn. After a moment, I got myself stretched out somewhere near the middle and felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine. The sheets were incredibly soft, cool and silky to the touch, and they smelled overwhelmingly of his cologne, earthy and rich. My own bed was lucky to not stink of vomit most days and creaked uncomfortably when I rolled over. 

I finally forced my eyes to meet his own as he sat himself against the headboard nearby. I hated that I could feel my face start to redden, still feeling a little shy. He gently brushed my hair back behind my ear and joked that I looked good spread out on his bed. I laughed and pushed myself up to kiss him again, cupping his face in my hands. His mouth now tasted like mint instead of expensive wine. Mine no doubt still tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. I’d have offered to brush my teeth, too, but he didn’t seem to care. He fucked his tongue into my mouth with reckless abandon and it made me feel hot all over, made me desperate to feel that talented tongue around my cock. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” I gasped out when his hand shoved under my shirt and viciously scratched along my back. I tried to roll away but he pinned me in place with a hand on my shoulder. I laid there, panting, and let out a loud cry as he pinched one of my nipples, pulling it taut before he rolled it between his fingers. I couldn’t think of a single time a girl had even come close to making me feel like this. I felt like I was on fire, burning from the inside out. It was like my first time all over again without all the awkwardness and uncertainty. 

“Responsive little thing, aren’t you?” Steven murmured close to my ear, and my cheeks burned with a mix of shame and excitement. “You’re beautiful, Johnny. Has anyone ever told you that? Magnificent.” 

I grabbed onto his elbow, needing a moment to breathe, and his hand ran down along my stomach, thumbing at the trail of hair there. “Don’t think so, no,” I said after my thoughts slowed down enough to get the words out. I wondered briefly why he decided to call me by my real name but couldn’t come up with an answer. Guess he just liked it, but - fuck it. He could call me whatever he wanted with the way I felt right then. “Feels nice to hear though.” 

“Come here,” he instructed, and I allowed myself to be seated onto his lap. I could feel his erection pushing into my arse and wriggled against it curiously. I felt so clumsy, so unsure of myself - I hadn't the foggiest on how to actually pleasure a man - but he was clearly turned on. I had to be doing something right. “Take your shirt off.” 

I immediately pulled it over my head and tossed it onto the floor, nervously crossing my arms as he looked me over. I was really self-conscious about my weight. My ribs jutted out unattractively and the severe dip between them made me look almost skeletal, but the look of arousal on his face only got more intense. “Like what ye see?” I joked quietly, trailing my fingers through the soft gray hair along his chest and stomach. I touched his own nipples, gently flicking them, and felt him roll his hips roughly against me in response, near bucking me off. 

“More than I could ever describe,” he said back, a little breathless. His handsome smile made my heart flutter, and I moaned as he kissed along my shoulder and up my neck, his tongue working a bruise into my pale skin. It wouldn’t take much - I was near translucent with how little I went out into the sun. 

A pleasurable cry slipped out of me as he worried the skin between his teeth, and I clutched onto him to try and calm myself down. The last thing I needed was to come before we’d done anything. I just wasn’t used to sex being this intense. I fucked girls hard and fast in bathroom stalls and dark corners, racing to come before I needed to throw up. How would I ever go back to that now that I’d experienced _this_? 

His fingers flicked open the button to my jeans with an underlying casualness that made me wonder how often he’d done it before - how many other guys had been in my place? I quickly decided I didn’t care. “Touch yourself, show me how much you want this,” he said, and I dug my hand into my jeans to pull myself out. I hesitated to let him get a good look at me, but once I saw the look in eyes a small burst of confidence raced through me. I arched my back out and presented my cock to him proudly, stroking it with a loose fist.

Mouth agape, sweat pouring down my face, I couldn’t imagine I looked the slightest bit attractive, but I got more into it after a few minutes. I’d never felt so wanted, so _desired_. “Fuck - fuck. I can’t...oh _fuck_ , I can’t." My stupid thumb had brushed over the tip on a particularly vigorous upstroke. I'd been too focused on showing off, and now I was gonna come way too soon. Fuck. Precome shot out of me in warning, and I had to let go _right_ _now_ if I had any chance of holding back, but Steven stopped me before I was able to do that. “I’m gonna fuckin’ _come_ \- I gotta. I _gotta let go_.” 

“Then come,” Steven whispered, and my entire body shuddered in response. A long wail poured out of me as I began to climax, my release shooting all over my fingers. I was in another plane of existence for a moment, one made up entirely of this overwhelming pleasure, and I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to come back to the real world.

A good amount of time must have passed when I managed to open my eyes again, feeling a bit lightheaded. I no longer heard David Bowie crooning away in the background - Steven had put on something else. Nothing I recognized, but I liked the melancholic sound of it. The singer’s voice was deep and sorrowful, beautiful and honest, but the guitar was what really stood out. Every word echoed the lonely tune of its strings. ‘ _I won’t share you, no. I won’t share you.’_

“Glad to see you’re back.” I jumped and looked towards the door. Steven was standing there with a small plate of strawberries, looking quite content as he ate at them. A glass of water was next to the bed, and I reached for it gratefully. My throat was unbearably dry. “Pace yourself.” 

“Thanks, yeah. Sorry about that,” I said quietly as I sat the glass back down. Steven didn’t say anything back, just walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, putting the plate on his lap. “I, uh...I really enjoyed that, I guess, huh?” 

“You must have,” Steven said, gently touching my cheek. I leaned into it appreciatively and let my eyes shut for a moment. “Here, have a taste.” 

He pushed one of the strawberries between my lips, and I held onto his wrist as I began to suck at the fruit, biting down messily. Steven was quick to lick away the juices that spilled out and pushed his tongue into my mouth afterward, sharing the taste with me. "That was nice," I murmured as he pulled away, my lips buzzing pleasantly.

I scooted back towards the headboard and waited for him to settle in next to me. When I reached for another strawberry, my wrist was pulled back with a hard yank. “No,” Steven said, unflinching. I nodded in understanding, and he reached to pull one up by the stem, thoughtfully looking me over. “Get yourself undressed.”

Right. I still had my jeans on, though Steven had been nice enough to clean me up a little. I wondered why he’d bothered. Just another one of his oddities, I guess. Wriggling, I pushed off my jeans and underwear like he'd asked before tossing them off the bed entirely. “That better?” I asked, grinning a bit as I flicked my hair out my eyes.

“Mm,” Steven said with an approving tone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt a spark of arousal at the idea that I had pleased him, but I wasn’t sure what to make of that and filed it away for later. That could wait until I had time to process the dozen or so other sexual revelations I’d had tonight. “Roll over, face down.” 

Nodding, I got into position and waited anxiously for his next move. The bed shifted as he sat himself on my legs, rubbing my back some. When I relaxed, those slender fingers twisted into my hair and pulled me back towards him enough to force a strawberry between my lips. I was tempted to bite down, but he rested a hand on my jaw before I had the chance. 

"Keep it right there,” Steven whispered, and I already knew that was going to be impossible. It was too uncomfortable and made my jaw ache, but I closed my eyes and tried not to let go. I concentrated on the way he kissed my shoulders and the back of my neck, the way he trailed his tongue down the dip of my spine. It kept me distracted, kept me from disobeying him like I wanted.

I was still so sensitive from my orgasm earlier, and I shifted restlessly with every touch, whining softly in the back of my throat. His fingers brushed along my sides and almost made me giggle, but I was diligent, determined. I wasn't gonna let this strawberry go. Then his mouth dropped even lower, much, _much_ lower in fact, and I kicked wildly at the bed as something warm and wet touched my entrance _(his_ _tongue, oh god_ ). A whole new type of pleasure rocketed through me, shaking me to the core, and I tore at the sheets in excitement. 

Immediately he pulled away, and I cursed under my breath when I realized why - I’d bit clean through the strawberry. It was lodged in the side of my cheek. “S-sorry. I...I’ve never had anyone do that before,” I said after I’d swallowed, wiping my face against the pillow. Hopefully he didn’t mind. “Can we try again? I’m sorry.” 

“There’ll be consequences if you do that again, Johnny. Do you understand?” 

That was a lot to take in at once. I wanted more clarification, but I also didn’t want this to stop. Conflicted, I found myself nodding and allowed him to push another strawberry between my lips. He discarded the stem of the last one before he shifted back down, extremely close to where he’d been before, and I breathed in sharply when I felt his warm breath on my lower back, desperately fighting the urge to tense up. 

There was a gentle nip on one side of my arse which nearly made me laugh, but I kept the fruit between my lips, swallowing back some of the excess juices. It was making me so sticky, but I was dead set on not disappointing him again. I had to see this through even if I couldn’t understand why I felt that way. “Hm, I’ll be right back,” Steven murmured and just like that he was off the bed. 

The record kept me from spiraling too deep into my own worry, that soft voice singing something about love, peace and harmony, and I thought it maybe sounded a little familiar after a minute. Weird. Then Steven was back with a warm cloth, distracting me. He ran the flannel down between my legs, pressing it into me some. It was more than a little embarrassing, but he didn’t seem phased at all from what I could tell - those dark, thick brows were tilted down in concentration, that wonderful tongue darting out every once in a while to wet his lips. I still couldn’t understand why a rich, handsome man like him would want some young delinquent he met in a bar. He could have anyone, surely. 

After he finished, Steven settled himself back onto me - he was almost sat on the back of my knees now - and my jaw burned fiercely from having to stay open so long. Sweat dripped off my temples from the immense effort, but he soothingly rubbed his hands down my back, sensing my discomfort. I wriggled my jaw some to ease the ache and let myself arch up into the touch to show my appreciation since I couldn't moan.

His lips trailed over my arse, nosing down towards my entrance, and I almost bit through the strawberry when I felt his tongue push against me. I managed to stop about halfway through, but he paused to warn me all the same. “Mind yourself, Johnny. I don’t want to have to show you what happens if you disobey.” 

Pleasure bubbled inside me at the words. I could feel my balls tightening up and my cock twitched against the sheets. My mind couldn’t grasp how incredible it all felt. I had never imagined that two people could even do this with one another. I didn't know what this kind of thing was even called. I’d not be ringing up my mates to ask them about it or anything, but once I got back to my laptop I had a lot to research to do as this _couldn’t_ be the last time someone did this to me. 

Soon I felt something bigger start to press against my entrance. It was his finger, I realized, and he was going to - oh. _Oh_. The fruit finally split the rest of the way, and I could hardly get a moan out as I gulped it down, eagerly rocking into this new touch. I twisted helplessly beneath him as the digit was properly pushed inside me, playfully tugging at the rim. “ _Steven,_ oh. Oh _fuck_.” 

“Don't say that name.” My brain couldn’t understand the words for a moment, and I cried out as his hand pulled away. A hard blow against my backside calmed me down slightly, let me focus, but the thrum of arousal was still buzzing through me like a bump of speed was lodged in my sinus. “Moz.” 

“What?” I asked, lost. I didn’t know what that meant. “I don’t -”

“Say it,” Steven said before I had a chance to ask. “You aren’t to call me anything but that. _Say it_.” 

“Moz,” I whispered, guessing it was a nickname. Morrissey, Moz. It kind of made sense. As much as _anything_ made sense right now. Another smack landed on my arse so I said it again, louder. “ _Moz._ ” 

“Good. You’ve also disobeyed me so you’ve another five swats. Grab the headboard,” Steven ordered, and I frantically reached for it, face flush with shame. Each hit alternated from one side to the other with the last one landing on my upper thigh. 

I laid there, breathless, as I heard the drawer next to the bed open. The plate was set aside, and there was the plastic click of a bottle of lube - and this was it, wasn’t it? What everything had been building up to since we’d left the bar together. I’d never fantasized about men before, not really, but now the one I’d just met was about to fuck me, and I didn’t have a single doubt I wanted it.

Despite the discomfort, my cock noticeably hardened again when his fingers slid back into me, slowly rocking in...and out, in...and out. I wanted to say I wasn’t fuckin' fragile, I’d not shatter if he moved a little faster, but the words got stuck inside my throat when he touched this spot deep inside of me. An explosion of pleasure ripped through my brain as he knowingly prodded at it a few more times, crooking his finger right into it. It left my ears ringing like a nuclear bomb had gone off. “Oh my fuckin’ _god_. Don’t fuckin’ stop that, please. Please don’t stop. _Moz._ ” 

His mouth worked across my shoulder, his entire body rocking with each thrust of his hand, and I wanted to scream - I _tried_ to scream - but all that came out was a whimper. In all the porn I’d watched, there was never any sex shown that seemed _this_ good. Blondes with too much makeup, guys oiled up and shaved smooth. No one seemed overly interested in each other, no one really looked at each other. It seemed almost comical in comparison to this. 

Another ridiculous sound came out of me when I felt his fingers pull away, but then there was something else pushing its way in. My eyes shut tight as I realised what he was about to do, fearfully tensing up. Fuck, and then it just _happened_ , he was inside me, and I clutched at the headboard as an intense pain disrupted the rush of ecstasy. 

“Johnny -” I jumped at the sound of his voice right against my ear. His blue eyes were staring down at me with concern, I realized. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, comforting me, and his thighs held my hips in place, keeping us perfectly still for a while. I could hear the sound of my heart pounding frenziedly inside of my chest, ready to rip itself out. “Relax yourself, breathe.” 

That seemed so easy to say, but how? My entire body wanted nothing more than to push him out of me, and I panicked to imagine that I couldn’t enjoy this. Everything up to this point had been so good. Maybe I just wasn’t meant to be the one taking it. It made sense that some guys would be good on the top and others on the bottom. Maybe I was just a top?

Before I could pull away, Steven’s hips rocked in a way that made me nearly convulse. I’d forgotten so fast about that spot inside of me. The one that lit up every nerve inside of me, made my cock pulse and my thoughts crash to a halt. Suddenly nothing else mattered to me. I only wanted his hips to keep moving and for me to feel that pleasure again and again. 

As the pain faded, I also had to process the sensation of feeling so _full_ , it was almost too much, made me want to bear down and push him out, but - I slowly started to like the way his cock felt inside of me (did girls think the same thing when I fucked them?). I started to dread when he’d add more lube, probably to help lessen the friction, but I liked when he got a little too rough with me, when it felt like he could tear me apart with the next thrust. 

“Oh, fuck. _Oh_ -” I tore at the sheets as another orgasm began to build up inside me. My cock still felt so sensitive, but I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing against the silken sheets, moaning loudly despite the burn. I could feel a wet patch start to form after a minute and wished I could shift back a little, but Steven didn’t seem too interested in letting me go, hips forcefully meeting mine with increasing speed. 

“Johnny. _Johnny_.” Steven was whispering my name over and over, chanting it into my neck, and I loved how he said it so _reverently_. As if I was cherished and loved despite us only having known each other for a few hours. I could imagine myself easily getting used to the sound, thighs trembling as my mind pictured us fucking again and again. 

The thought was enough for me to come, my entire body rocking with Steven’s own as my orgasm was wrenched out of me. Every shiver that went through me was blissful agony, and I scrambled to get away when I felt that spot inside me being rubbed at again. I didn’t think I could take anymore, crying out as the pleasure started to become overwhelming. 

“ _Oh_ -” Steven’s movements slowed as a warmth shot inside of me, and I realized just then that he wasn’t wearing a condom. That was probably a serious concern to worry about at some point. Right now it just felt incredible. I loved knowing he’d marked me in this perverse way. That I was entirely _his_ right then, in every sense of the word. 

Steven sunk down next to me, and I clung to him like a life raft. I was adrift somewhere in the back of my own head, floating along a vast, empty ocean. It was like when I’d tripped on acid a few months ago. Every color was bright and vibrant but somehow just a little foggy - like city lights through a rainy car window. Like my mind couldn’t quite focus on reality as a whole. 

“You’ll be staying the night for the next few days,” Steven said softly, and I looked up at him confusedly. “Afterwards, you’ll make the decision to move in or not. I suggest you do. I’ll be covering the cost up front.” 

“All my stuff is back at my flat,” I said, still not entirely sure I hadn’t fallen asleep - mostly because I didn’t mind him ordering me around like this. I think I might’ve even _liked_ it deep down, but that was another thing for me to worry about later. The list was getting impossibly long.

“I’ll have someone go by your place tomorrow to get your personal effects, but you’ll be getting a new wardrobe and a haircut,” Steven said, rubbing my left earlobe as if in deep thought before he leaned down to kiss me. “You’ll not be seen with me wearing rags.”

“Yes,” I breathed out, not sure why I felt so aroused at the thought of being entirely _owned_ by him. “There’s not much other than my CDs and stuff, uh - some posters, I guess. My laptop.” 

“Mm, well. You’ll have access to any necessities you need in the meanwhile. We’ll talk more about it when you decide to move in or not.” 

I nodded, but I hardly needed the time to think it over. I already knew I wanted this, but I didn't want to sound too eager. What waited for me back home anyways? Nothing and no one. For now, I just let my head rest against his shoulder, let my eyes shut again. “So if I stay, could, uh...could I get a new bass maybe?”

Steven laughed and brushed his fingers across my cheek affectionately, making me shiver. “Good night, Jack. Sleep well.” 


End file.
